Rite of Spring
by Sailor Mac
Summary: It's a holiday in Amestris, and everybody is happy except Ed. What is the cause of his melancholy, and is Russell's love enough to pull him out of his funk? Shonen ai, RussellXEd


NOTE: This fic is set in a post-series AU where Ed made it back to Amestris by a different means than what was portrayed in the movie, Al never got his memory back and Ed has been romantically involved with Russell Tringham for some time. RITE OF SPRING By Sailor Mac "Brother! They're setting up the parade down the street!" Al was leaning over the windowsill, his hands pressed to the panes like a child looking in the window of a candy store, his eyes moving side to side with excitement as he took in the scene in front of him. People in colorful costumes were moving around, some tuning up musical instruments, others adjusting a bit of fringe or a plumed hat. Ed turned a page of his book and burrowed deeper into his chair. "Yeah, whatever," he said, not raising his eyes. Al turned toward his brother. "I want to go," he said. "No, you don't," Ed said. "It's gonna be like every other Austron celebration we ever went to in Central. Just a bunch of crowds and noise and people stomping on other people's feet." "But I don't remember any of those celebrations," Al said. "Please, Brother . . . I want to go. Russell and Fletcher left for the festival already . . ." Ed sighed deeply. He was well aware his lover and his brother had gone to the festival. Good, let 'em. Amestris' annual spring holiday had probably been a big deal in Xenotime. They were used to being trampled and squashed and . . . "Al, believe me. You are not missing anything. If I thought it was worth going to . . ." Al looked back at the window and said, quietly, "How am I going to know it's not worth it if I don't experience it for myself?" The tone in Al's voice made Ed look up. It was full of melancholy, of longing. Al wasn't thinking about this Austron . . . he was thinking about the celebrations in Central that he couldn't remember, would never remember, even though he'd been right at Ed's side, as a giant suit of armor. Old, familiar pangs of guilt stabbed at him. It's my fault he can't remember, he thought. It's my fault that he lost those years, that he was in that armor in the first place He put down his book. "All right," he sighed. "I'll go." Al rushed over and hugged him. "You won't regret it," he said. "I'm sure it'll be fun!" "Yeah, if you're into getting stomped like a grape," he mumbled.The festival had been exactly like Ed had imagined it would be. The streets were filled with booths, offering all kinds of merchandise -- clothing, toys, decorations and knickknacks for the home. There was even a stall of books that tempted him for a moment -- until a group of young people rushing like mad down the street crashed into Ed, and he lost all urge to go there. Here and there were food vendors, selling roasted meat and vegetables on wooden skewers, enormous sandwiches, even cakes and ice cream. And everywhere, there were groups of people playing games -- Ed got bonked in the side of the head with a ball, and Al had to restrain him from going after the person who threw it. "Do you want to get something to eat before the parade starts?" Al said, tugging on the string of a balloon that a passing clown had handed to him. "I'm not that hungry right now," Ed grumbled, folding his arms over his chest. He watched a couple of boys attempt to knock over milk cans with a ball to win stuffed toys for their girlfriends. Guy running the booth has probably fused the cans to each other and the table, he thought. "We probably won't get a chance once it's underway," Al said. "It's a couple of hours long, and . . ." "Hey, I thought you weren't coming here!" said a voice behind them. Ed's heart sank. He loved Russell -- hell, he and Al were living with the Tringhams at the moment -- but he was in no mood for him now. "I thought I wasn't coming here, too," Ed said, frostily, turning around to face the Tringhams. "But I changed my mind." "Did you see the acrobats?" Fletcher said, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "They were performing right over there. They're going to be part of the parade, too!" "No, we didn't," Al said. "I had to keep Brother from killing someone who hit him with a ball." "Damn brat wasn't watching where he was going," Ed mumbled. "How could someone hit you with a ball?" Russell said, eyes taking on that slightly smug gleam that Ed still found annoying at times -- like now. "You're such a small target!" Ed stormed toward him. "WHO ARE YOU CALLING SMALL ENOUGH TO HIDE IN A FLEA'S BELLYBUTTON?" He was dimly aware of both younger brothers catching his arms and trying to hold him back. Russell was a bit startled. Ed hadn't reacted that violently to his teasing in a long time. He reached out and tried to put a hand on Ed's shoulder. "Ed . . . what's wrong?" he said. But Ed batted the hand away. "Nothing's wrong!" he said. "It's just that all these crowds and noise and insanity gives me a headache!" "But Brother . . . we only wanted you to enjoy yourself . . ." Al said. "Yeah, well, maybe you're enjoying yourself!" Ed said, his face starting to take on colors. "Look, Ed . . ." Russell said, reaching out for his lover again. "Forget it," Ed said, throwing his hands up in the air. "You people enjoy it." And he turned and stormed off through the crowds, quickly swallowed up by the hoards. "Brother!" Al said and started to follow him, but Fletcher caught him and held him back, shaking his head. He knew that at this point, Al might do more harm than good. Russell stood to the spot, his jaw hanging open. What had made Ed react like this? What was it about his holiday that got to him? Had he, Russell, teased him too much this time -- or was there something else?He found Ed deep in a nearby park, a site that somehow had escaped the festival planners in their quest to cover every inch of Central with booths, games and revelry. He was sitting beneath a cherry tree, the blossoms falling down on him like pale pink rain, clinging to his hair and clothing unnoticed. "Ed?" he said, quietly, approaching the younger boy. But there was no reply -- Ed just sat there, as if Russell wasn't there at all, twirling a piece of long grass in his fingers. "Look, Ed, I know I don't say this too often, but . . . okay, I'm sorry for what I said back there. I . . ." "It wasn't like this in Riesemboul," Ed said, still not looking up from the piece of grass. This took Russell aback. He sat on the grass next to his lover. "What . . . wasn't like this, Ed?" "Austron. There wasn't all this crap, with the parades and the street fairs. We'd just go out to this big grove of cherry trees and have picnics and look at how pretty the cherry blossoms were. And Al and I used to throw big handfuls of them at each other, and at Winry." He looked up at Russell, a bit of a wry smile on his face. "She used to really hit us when we did that." "It sounds . . . like it was nice," Russell said. He could tell by the look on Ed's face that this was no mere childhood memory, that it carried a lot of weight. The next words he said confirmed it. "My mother loved this holiday. I mean, really loved it. Her face would just light up when she saw the petals. We tried to make a necklace for her out of them once. Didn't work out too well. She wore it anyway, even though it looked like exactly what it was -- a bunch of squashed-up stuff on a string." He looked down in silence for a long moment, twirling the piece of grass again, and then he said, in a tiny voice, "That was one of the things I was thinking, the night we tried to bring her back. That she'd be back with us in time for Austron." Russell put his hand over Ed's. His lover's behavior during the holiday -- the initial refusal to go to the festival, the crankiness once he got there -- made perfect sense now. It had nothing at all to do with noise and crowds . . . and everything to do with guilt and regret. "I remember what Austron was like when I was really little, in Xenotime, before we moved to Central," Russell said. "We had a park with cherry trees, kind of like this one . . . and my father used to get piles of petals and transmute them into tiny, whole plants. It just absolutely amazed me. It seemed like the most wonderful thing in the world, that my father could take these small, soft, pink things and get a sturdy-looking plant out of them. That's when I realized I wanted to be an alchemist, no matter what it took." He laced his fingers with Ed's and continued, "I used to think about that, years later, when Fletcher and I were continuing my father's work. I looked out Mugear's window, and saw a few cherry petals floating by . . . and it brought back those memories of my father, and I knew that continuing his work was the right thing to do . . . even though, deep down inside, part of me knew how wrong what we were doing was." Ed turned toward Russell. "No wonder we ended up together," he said. "Each of us is as screwed up as the other." Russell gripped Ed's hand tighter. "Hey . . . at least we're screwed up together, right?" Ed leaned over, and then their mouths came together, Russell letting out a small growl as his lover's tongue started to push into his mouth. Their arms wrapped around one another, pulling each other closer . . . Then, Russell eased away, saying, "Hey, I don't think we should be doing this when we're so close to the festival . . " Ed folded his arms and gave him a cocky smile. "What's the matter, Russ? Don't you like danger" "I like danger fine. I don't like letting the whole world in on our private time" "Hey, we'd be putting on a more entertaining show than those acrobats!" "Sure. And we'd put on another show when we got arrested." "Like you got arrested when you were pretending to be me?" Ed said as he started to walk back to their place, Russell following. "Look, it was the only time I'd done that since I met you in Xenotime!" Russell said. "You're just damn lucky they pulled you out of there," Ed said. "If I'd had to bail your butt out of trouble . . ." "I could have gotten us out of there myself!" Russell said, rushing to keep up with Ed -- dammit, how did he move so fast with such short legs? And one of them automail, yet! "Yeah, you weren't doing a very good job of it, were you?" Ed said, turning down a path that would bypass the festival entirely. "I would have gotten us out if I'd had more time!" Russell said, following his lover. He knew he was wrong, of course. But sometimes, with Ed . . . it seemed natural to argue. After all, it was as much a part of their unique relationship as anything else. Fullmetal Alchemist is property of Hiromu Arakawa, Square Enix and Studio BONES. No profit is being made from this fanfic. 


End file.
